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I’ve been running around like crazy since Saturday trying to get a bunch of things done for Christmas and for friends visiting this weekend and I’m ready to slow down already. When I get like this, I get tired and emotional and that combination is never a good thing for someone in my shoes.

You would think running around crazy wouldn’t allow for the baby thoughts to creep in, but they seem to never go away. This morning as I was cleaning up a bit before I left for work, I opened the trunk in our bedroom and caught a glimpse of the baby blanket my friend made for me two pregnancies ago, and instantly I thought that the chances of wrapping a baby in that incredible gift of love is very slim. Then moments later as I was getting dressed, I opened a clothes drawer and saw the onesie I bought when I was pregnant for the second time, the one that was just too cute to pass up, even though I knew I was pressing my luck. It’s red and white striped, and fits exactly into the style Tim swears I possess – that of a pirate (I like to call it romantic). I love that onesie. And all I want is to be able to see it on our baby. Except I realize that it may remain in my drawer, left forever waiting to be filled.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how, at two years, I seem to be becoming an elder in this community. I know there are a handful of you out there that have been at this for twice that amount of time, and I am awed by your persistence and strength. Because even though I’m “only” at two years, I’ve started to notice that the majority of women out there don’t usually have to struggle for this long. I am not by any means saying that their pain or grief or frustration is any less than mine…believe me when I say a month at this is too long. It’s just that I’m starting to see more and more people succeeding while I remain in the same place. I’ve begun witnessing a new wave of women come into our community (I’m so sorry you’ve joined us), while the old ones move on to their newfound (and much deserved) families. How did I get to be a Super* Senior in this shitty-ass high school? And who can I talk to about the fazing involved for the Freshman? They don’t deserve this pain. I’d rather be the welcoming Senior, with an arm-full of babies to hand out than the one handing out blows to the uterus with a paddle.

It’s difficult feeling like you’re being left behind. And it’s not just in blog world. Yesterday I saw from a distance a woman that I used to be friends with before all of this crap, pushing a stroller with her 3-month-old in it. I realized later that day that she has gotten engaged, married, pregnant, and had her baby all in the time I’ve been trying for a successful pregnancy. Why does she deserve it so much more than I? I can’t make sense of it.

To those of you that have succeeded or on their way to succeeding, please know that I hold no resentment towards you – in fact, just the opposite – I’m thrilled for you because you give us hope when it feels impossible to find. Unfortunately though, that excitement doesn’t erase the fact I want so badly to be in your shoes – for all of us left in here to be in your shoes. And I know you want that, too. That’s the one thing this infertility school gives us, an uncanny ability to be compassionate to those who know what this is like.

I know this sounds like one big whine-fest, but we’ve hit our two-year anniversary of trying to make a pregnancy work and I can’t believe I’m still here. As happy as the holidays are for me, the Christmas lights and warm fires are reminding me of a more innocent me that is gone forever. I miss her spirit, her hope, her naivety. This is a world I never wanted to be experienced in.

—

*Super Senior is a phrase my friends and I used when we were all in our 5th year of college. In that case, it was fun to be a Super Senior because why rush the real world? In this case: not so fun. I want back into that Super Senior year…this one sucks.

Oh I remember our 2 year anniversary of trying. Not a good time for us. I thought we would be stuck in that hell forever. I understand your thoughts and feelings… You’re just ready to be done and no one blames you for that. I do think you’ll get your baby… Most of us do. Hang in there!

😦 I’m so sorry Court. Two years is such bullshit I can’t stand it. My heart shatters into pieces every time I think of what you’ve been through. It is SO terribly unfair and you are so INCREDIBLY strong to still have any fight in you. While you may be a “super senior”, remember that you’re showing the newbies how they’ll get through it all. And selfishly I’m glad you were still here when I began my journey in the blogosphere because I feel so incredibly blessed to have found you and call you my friend. I heart you big time! xoxo

I’m beginning to feel like this, too. I’m just past the 1.5 year mark, but with all the treatments and retesting that need to be done before we try again, we will most likely hit the two year mark before we can even try again. Sometimes I feel like I’m running on a treadmill to nowhere.

(((Hugs))) That story about the blanket and the onsie really got me. It made me want to assure you that someday you’ll have a baby to fill that onsie and put in that blanket, but I don’t have the power to make those kinds of promises. I wish I did.

I of course wish that I wasn’t here I wish that I didn’t need a group of practically anonymous women helping me get through the day. But since I do I am extremely blessed that there are women like you here. That being said I once again wish that you weren’t here and that it isn’t so ridiculously hard. I told my mom once and wrote on my blog that I feel like I’m at an amusement park and there is this awesome ride there that everyone is talking about and when me and husband got to get on the ride we got kicked off for no reason and now we can’t even get back in line. But now for the first time in over a year since we got kicked off that ride I don’t feel completely alone because there are other people trying to get on too.

I guess I’m one of the ones who “moved on.” And my sense of belonging in this community is complicated to begin with because I had a child before I transferred to this “shitty-ass high school” (awesome metaphor, BTW). But there is a gap of almost five years between my two kids, during which there was loss, and loss, and more fucking loss. It sucked. I don’t wish it on anyone.

While I can’t guarantee you a baby (gee, wouldn’t that be nice), what I can guarantee is that even if you’re a super-senior, the “graduates” aren’t leaving you. Small consolation, but it’s something.

Thank you for this. Sometimes I think it’s easy to forget that once a woman become successful at having a baby (either by giving birth, surrogate or adoption), that they still experienced that pain and that will never leave them. But there is a difference that remains, however…that they were one of the fortunate ones to get what we all so badly wants. And maybe that’s what I’m struggling with. How do we still bridge that gap? That’s where I feel left behind.

I got scared when after two years with no baby in sight and all the blogs I followed seemed to be pregnant. I thought what if I fall into that tiny tiny percentage that may be childless?? It took a whole other year and meeting other “seniors” to get me through. All I am going to say is that there is no reason why it can’t happen and when it does next time your OB better be all over making sure it Stays in there for nine months. Then all over the world, literally cause we are everywhere there will be huge celebrations 🙂 it took three years and six IVF transfers for me, so far I have taken so many needles it is reedikulus but I am getting there. Big hugs super senior!!

Your blog is so very important to all of us, no matter where we are all at in this journey.

My DH told me the story last week of a colleague of his – he and his wife have gone through IVF 6 times and had 4 M/Cs and 1 ectopic. Their 6th pregnancy has just reached 12 weeks which has never happened before. I don’t know them, and I do not speak from a place of experience as we only start IVF in 3 weeks for the first time ourselves, but I can only imagine that what they will have been through, is the same as what you are going through. Please, please don’t give up hope.

Huge hugs and strengthening thoughts being sent your way, over the oceans from down under!

I haven’t been blogging that long but I have been trying for 2 years in January and I hear ya on getting left behind. I used to spend a lot of time on forums and I definitely am one of the last ones from that group to still be TTCing.

I’m sorry you are feeling like a super senior, but I am so appreciative of you and your blog.

I’ve only recently discovered your blog, and really enjoy your writing. But of course, I do not enjoy that you are experiencing these feelings — I am so sorry. No one deserves it. This time of year definitely amplifies things a lot. I swear I wrote a lot of the same things 3 years back, before I finally got pregnant with my son after a LONG time in treatment/loss/treatment/loss, etc. It was evil. I recall outgrowing support groups because I was the only one left not pregnant (with a lasting pregnancy of course) yet.

Anyway, I wish I had awesome advice to offer. But instead, I can offer another hug from a stranger who has been there. Take care of yourself.

Ugh I am coming up on 1.5 years in two weeks. I also know someone who’s gotten married and is now 5 months pregnant, all within the time we’ve been trying to get pregnant. I know 5 or 6 people who announced their pregnancies and have now given birth all within the time we’ve been trying. IT SUCKS. 😦 😦 A part of me feels like we’re going to be doing this forever, like this is what I do now. Go to the doctor and check my cervical mucus. Bleh.

I have been thinking about your post and something just hit me. Perhaps part of the reason that so many people get pregnant before the two year mark is because they’re not necessarily infertile or an RPL-er to begin with. I’ve noticed this with a lot of blogs recently (and one that is quite popular) – people calling themselves infertile without a medical diagnosis and still in that first obligatory year of trying. Infertility and RPL is a medical diagnosis, but so many people self-diagnose because, ‘I went through a lot to get here – it took me one miscarriage and then almost a year to get pregnant.’ Those are the people I notice getting pregnant lately. To each his own – but IF and RPL is a medical diagnosis just like Cancer. I don’t get to say I have breast cancer because I have a lump in my breast. I need to get it tested, diagnosed, etc. You shouldn’t say you are infertile just because it’s taken you a while (the normal year of truly trying with maybe a miscarriage) to get pregnant and you’re upset about it. But that is what I’m noticing in the latest round of popular blogs.

As most of us know, in the REAL world of infertility, you spend a year trying on your own, many months testing, many months (wasting time) with IUI’s, before moving onto IVF which takes about 40 days per cycle. I hit the 2 year mark after trying on my own, testing, one IUI, one IVF, and 1 FET.

Try not to get down about this. Your time is coming – it just may not happen in a timely manner!

You’re not being left behind. Your time will come. You’re just really one of those people with a true IF/RPL diagnosis.

Resolve.org disagrees with your statement “You shouldn’t say you are infertile just because it’s taken you a while (the normal year of truly trying with maybe a miscarriage) to get pregnant and you’re upset about it.”

Resolve.org says: “Infertility is defined as the inability to conceive or carry a pregnancy to term after 12 months of trying to conceive. If you are over the age of 35, the time of trying to conceive is reduced to 6 months.”

Thank you for such a thoughtful comment, Courtney. I can see your point, for sure, and I appreciate you bringing it up…but I’m not so so sure I agree with you completely. No one has ever told me: “you’re infertile.” And I completely disagree with the medical field’s decision to only act upon a woman’s fertility after a year of trying, or more than 3 losses (is it 3? I can’t remember, whatever it is, I know it’s ridiculous). A woman should get the attention she needs after 1 loss and way less than a year, when the “average” time it takes someone to get pregnant is 2-6 months. So that being said, I feel like if a woman has been trying for that amount of time and nothing is happening, while they’re watching their friends get pregnant at the drop of a hat, they have every right to be frustrated at their situation. And a woman who has had even 1 loss – whether that’s considered “normal” or not – has every right to grieve and feel whatever they’re feeling. Even though I am feeling upset that I’m two years in and seeing women “younger” than me at this getting successful, I think they have every right to feel like they battled to get where they are, even if it was after just 6 months of trying. We can’t know what it’s like in other people’s shoes. My situation with 4 losses is devastating and debilitating at times. But someone may feel that at 1 loss and others may never feel it at 13 losses.

I can definitely see what you’re saying, though. I get it. I just think we tend to compare our situations with one another more than we should. Even though our grief and frustrations are similar, we can never know what it’s like for another woman.

Please don’t think that I am saying that people who struggle with fertility or have a miscarriage shouldn’t grieve. And I certainly agree that the medical field makes us wait too long for testing, etc. I knew right away we’d have trouble, but I was told to try for a year. FRUSTRATING. My issue is with people diagnosing themselves and calling themselves infertile when it just took them the long end of the “normal” range to get pregnant. As my RE says, “infertile people just don’t get pregnant on their own within a year’s time. If they do – they’re not infertile.”

I had a miscarriage with our FET and was terribly upset. That was my only miscarriage, I would never expect someone to say, “well, this is common so no big deal.” What I just don’t understand is the new crop of gals out there who almost WANT to have the label of “infertile” or “RPL.” It’s not a fun thing to be. And I do find that they are minimizing a truly awful “disease” by claiming it without a diagnosis, making it seem like “everyone” has infertility or RPL. Everyone does not – but when so many people claim to have it when they don’t – it becomes something that is viewed more as “chic” than a true affliction. I don’t know how many times I was told, “oh everyone has trouble with that these days. It will happen soon for you.”

As you can see, I’m very passionate about this. Three years in the trenches will make you that way. I feel terrible for anyone who has to spend more than a few months trying to get pregnant – because it just is NOT fun. Once you decide you want a baby, you want it NOW (I know I did!) and you worry constantly until you get that baby. But please, please, please don’t call yourself infertile or say you are an RPL-er because of one miscarriage or because it took you 12 months to get pregnant. That is all.

I get this. And I agree with what your RE says. Honestly, I don’t understand why anyone would want this label. It’s forced upon those of us dealing with the worst of it, and we’d give anything to get rid of it. I actually have a difficult time claiming “infertility” because I can get pregnant so I’ve never liked that label for me (in fact, I rarely even use it unless I’m talking about the community as a whole). It’s shocking to think there are people WANTING to claim it…why do you think that is?

I have no idea why someone would want to claim infertility when they really don’t have it. I do remember, though, that after a year of trying, I just longed for the label so doctors would help us conceive! But I would much rather be able to conceive on my own without cold hard science – hence – without the “infertility” or “RPL” label. There was no way in h*ll that I called myself infertile before we hit that year mark and without a diagnosis – because I KNEW it was a medical condition that needed a diagnosis (just like depression, or cancer, or diabetes). The same thing happened with a substantial lump in my chest. Doctors at first thought breast cancer, then bone cancer, but I didn’t say I had either of those things until the tumor was removed and tested (it was benign – so I never did claim cancer, thank God!). Was I scared that I may have bone cancer? Absolutely! Did I tell people I had bone cancer? Absolutely not! Maybe I’m just more sensitive to this than others. Afterall, my mother loves drama so I try to stay away from it 😉 HA!

I think a lot of it just comes down to drama and a sense of belonging. Some people just like for there to be “something wrong” with them or they like to be “different.” You can quickly see this in many of the blogs these days – just like how you can see it on FB. I truly think that’s what’s going on.

But back to my original point, it takes time to get babies when you have a real, diagnosed problem (4 miscarriages, in your case, is obviously a real problem). Many people (IF or RPL) get pregnant much earlier than 2 years because they’re either really not infertile or an RPL-er in the first place, or (and this may be the more likely explanation) – they’re just damned lucky with their treatments! It’s often times just luck of the draw when it comes to embryo quality and viability – whether it’s IF or RPL.

I think about you all the time – and I so hope that you get your baby sooner rather than later. Of all the blogs I follow, you handle your RPL/IF with more grace and reason than anyone else. You may feel angry at times, but I’m here to tell you that your blog NEVER comes off as bitter or angry. You’re an inspiration!

I just want you to know that as someone who is described to a “T” by your “I went through a lot to get here – it took me one miscarriage and then almost a year to get pregnant” line, I totally agree with you. I’ve always felt like a fraud in this community, lurking here because I feel like I’m understood here so much better than anywhere else but knowing that my experience can’t hold a candle to the pain suffered by the women in this community. And while I appreciate BB’s “defense” of women like me, I want you to know that not all of us are trying to claim we’re IFers. I sometimes talk about myself like I’m in the IF community by accident, just because it’s the terminology that people use, but I try to always use ALI (because, when I have to I alway flash my loss card) and I try to never assume the identity of infertile when I KNOW that does not describe me. I don’t want anyone to think I’m diluting their struggle by including mine with it.

Well that explains why others want the “label,” and it’s so obvious — “because I feel like I’m understood here so much better than anywhere else.” That makes so much sense. And yet it upsets me that we feel the need to feel like we do or don’t belong. I’m definitely guilty of this. And like I said above, I think it’s because we compare ourselves to one another, and we can’t help it.

Thank you for giving us your point of view on this, E. But I’ve never thought of you as a fraud, because you know the pain. You may not know it to a certain level as others, but you know the pain. And for me, I feel like that’s all that matters.

(Although, if you go back to my original point…even though that understanding is all that matters (to me), it’s still difficult to see someone “starting” when you did and continuing on to be successful while you’re still in the same place. I felt I needed to add this in case it sounded like I was contradicting myself.)

I don’t think anyone would ever consider you to be a fraud. It’s difficult though to not compare yourself to others and when you finally can find a community of people that “get’ you you immerse yourself with them because it’s like you can finally just be real. I’m glad that Courtney went on to write more on her original post. I’ve often found that my evil judgmental side rears it’s ugly head when people talk of loss (having a miscarriage) and it’s soooo incredibly hard to take a step back and just realize that your pain is yours and mine is mine and there is NO person to judge who’s pain is greater. I think that when that comparison we want to do flutters up into our hearts it really is just unresolved grief that needs some TLC.

I feel this! My little sister was self labelled infertile. They tried for months and never got pregnant. I asked her what the doctor said, and she had never been to the doctor. Then I asked her if she ovulated, adn she said she didn’t know. So I made her get an opk, and guess who (not exaggerating) got pregnant that month???

We hit our 2 years TTC at the beginning of September. Chemical November 2010. We are going to be doing our first clomid cycle with an IUI hopefully next month. I don’t feel like I have been through much and still feel like a newbie.

I know what you mean feeling left behind. In my family baby #6 will be born in February and my best friend had hers 2 months ago all conceived at least 6 months after we started TTC.

I am so sorry you are a Super Senoir in this miserable, crappy-ass high school from hell. It’s not fair, there’s no reason for it and you have every reason to feel sad and angry, especially during this season with all its busyness and forced family frivolity. Wishing you buttered rums and delicious Courtney-made baked goods to cheer you up…

PS: I just wanted to tell you that your writing blows me away. Every. Time.

Hugs to you…
I remember so well being where you are (I tried for almost 5 years to get pregnant, 3 of those with surgeries and IVFs, so big-time medical interventions). It is sooooooo discouraging to see others move forward and to feel left behind, even if you are happy for them. I pray that day will come for you soon, soon, soon. Two years is a long, long time to live in this space. This is a marathon you’re running… And it’s not just 2 years of trying, it’s 2 years of trying plus an unfathomable amount of losses. That makes a difference/can’t help but make it harder…
Hope you are able to relax soon! Have fun with your friend.
XO

Delurking because this strikes such a chord with me. I guess I am in the process of moving on…though I still have a hard time believing it. (12 weeks today but forever holding my breath.) I think I get this, though of course from a slightly different angle – my four losses happened over the past five years. Especially after the one last Thanksgiving (’10), I was crushed, flattened, depressed and anxious out of my mind. I have really struggled with grieving and accepting my feelings, though, because as much as I have known that we want a child, none of my pregnancies that I miscarried were “planned.” The first three were conceived while not trying/not preventing, and the last I was even on the Pill, trying to give myself some breathing room and space from all the worry surrounding the whole issue – but I was still totally fucked up by all of them. So since I’ve (fortunately? doesn’t seem lucky that they never lasted) always been able to GET pregnant easily enough, I’ve never felt like I really “belonged” to the infertility world, and even though I know I easily qualify as an RPL’er, it sometimes feels like I didn’t have as much of a right to my pain when I hadn’t gone through IUIs or IVFs to conceive and hadn’t necessarily been meticulously planning to get pregnant. I really wanted to not have to “try,” but holy shit do we not always get what we want.

I hope with all my heart that your two years will not turn into three and that you will go nowhere near the five I spent in that awful limbo – but maud forbid, if you do, and even if you don’t, you have every right to every feeling that comes your way, and thank you so much for sharing the journey with us – for every comment left, there are probably five more not left, but those women still leave knowing they’re not alone, and I speak for myself knowing that means so much.

Isn’t it funny that we almost treat “infertility” as some kind of elite club that we never quite feel right belonging to? Why do we feel like that? It’s not like any of us even WANT to be in it! (Except, apparently, some people do – see Courtney’s comment above) I guess it’s because we can’t help but compare ourselves to other women, and that causes us to feel insecure or that our story doesn’t mean as much pain when compared to another.

I guess I’m a super senior too (2 years, 8 months) and it does feel ancient sometimes, even though, as you noted, many have been around longer. I’m on the way to resolution through adoption, so I wouldn’t claim that it’s exactly the same feeling as you. But it still feels endless right now… I still dream of having a biological child… I still have doubts it will ever happen. (Now I also dream of internationally adopting an entire orphanage-full of children, but that’s a different problem entirely!) I’m with you on grieving the innocent time before all this happened. I hope you graduate soon 🙂

I at the same place as Hope (previous poster)….it’s been a year and a half, but we’re just starting testing because I lost the first pregnancy around 20 weeks, then I got pregnant again 8 months later which I miscarried as well.

I bought all sorts of baby stuff the first time I was pregnant….thinking “I’m past 12 weeks, everything is wonderful!!!” After my D&E, I bought one of those nice, big rubbermaid/sterilite containers from Target, and threw EVERYTHING in it….including all the maternity clothes. It’s on the floor in the back of my closet with a whole lot of $#it on top so I don’t have to look at it! I HIGHLY recommend this!!! That way, you don’t run into stuff.

I totally hear you….even though you’re a little ahead of me. My former best friend was pregnant, had her baby, and just emailed me saying how sad she was that we weren’t in touch anymore and how shw had LOTS to catch me up on…..knowing that she was going to start trying again at least a few months ago…I know what that LOTS is, and I just can’t talk to her anymore.

It sucks so badly how isolating this all is….how it’s so hard to find anyone who “gets it,” and says the right things that we need to hear. Thanks for being here and saying those things…like this post. Hoping your 2 years ends ASAP!

This Christmas represents 4 years. That sucks. I also feel it has changed me so much. I really struggle to be really happy like I used to be. I know what you mean that when youa re busy, you still think back about it, it never leaves you. Sorry, I guess, knowing that you are not alone is all that I can offer you at this time. I have no enthusiasm for Christmas or our birthdays this year and so far, we have no plans for our annual Christmas party as we are both shattered by life at the moment. We are looking at plan Bs – for us probably egg donation to help us move forward.

Don’t worry hun, apart from this, I’m healthy. Also, the invitations have gone out today for the Christmas party, as whilst I’m not feeling great, I need to do something to not go further into the fug of upset, and doing something that I may enjoy is better than a night in front of the TV.

Oh Court. I don’t know what to say. I can’t imagine being two years out with four miscarriages to show for it. I really cannot fathom that. At all. Everything you are feeling, everything you are expressing, it’s all valid and then some. I hope you know that. You never need to apologize for what you’re saying or how you’re saying it. This is your life, this is your experience and you need to get it out in the way you know how. No one can tell you whether you’re doing it right, even those who’ve been through something similar. Because no one who’s done this is YOU doing this. You are you. Your losses are your losses and no one else’s compare.

Thinking of you always. I hope 2012 is your year. I really, REALLY do, with all my heart.

How is it possible that I am just now finding you, a fellow super senior, here in blog world?? Ach, I feel late to the party. Just chiming in here to say you’re not alone. And I find myself self-censoring a LOT, because I love so many of the people I’ve found through IF and loss blogs, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a little sad at feeling left behind. All the time. It’s that typical “happy for you, sad for me” dichotomy. I appreciate your honesty, and the thoughtful comments that I’ve found here. Ditch Xmas. Happy festivus.

I’m new to your blog, but not to the story. it flat out sucks to be there, where you are, a couple of years in without an end date, without resolution.

my situation was different, partly in that I started my blog after nearly 4 yrs of infertility, and 2.5 years after a devastating loss at 21 weeks. (believe me, one loss is more than enough…) but I left the bulletin boards where I had once found support for exactly the reasons you’re describing. ** I couldn’t stand to be the one always left behind.** there were women coming back for their 2nd and 3rd babies in the time I was still trying for one. watching other pregnancies progress and hearing about baby birthdays was simply an awful way for me to track time.

it’s now been more than 7 yrs since I started trying to build my family, and I have a 2.5 yr old through adoption and a newborn at age 42. but my infertility is still entrenched in me, even though I’m not entrenched in it anymore. I won’t ever forget those feelings, that life. it has definitely instilled great compassion for those who struggle to build their family, and who suffer loss in any form.

I have no good answers. just wanted to send a virtual hug and say you are not alone. wishing you strength and peace.

It is hard to watch other people move on while you’re still stuck in the trenches. And I hate that people on the “other side” take offense to that, because surely they can remember that time too? Shit, I remember it. IRL friends, message board friends, blog friends…and it fucking sucks. It really does. You don’t have to justify it.

Amazing dialogue, ladies. I am not a part of this community in the sense that I have never had a loss or the chance to try for a child, but am an ardent supporter of Bodega Bliss (and now the rest of you who I sit here weeping for). I have seen the effects, the retreating, the self-blame, and the years of pain that this has caused you, BB, and I never ever thought that I would be reading the words that you are writing. Never did I think that this would be a reality for you or for so many other women and their partners.

As a supporter of this shitty ass elite club, I have a favor. There are a lot of acronyms flying around in these posts, of which I cannot find explanations for through Google. Can you please enlighten me as to what they mean?

Make sure you give yourselves a huge hug from me. Just because there’s all this land between NC and CA doesn’t mean that I can’t be right there with you. How about a stand-up cutout of yours truly for Christmas? Eh? I’ll even put sticky notes in a conversation cloud above my head. They’ll say things like “Have fun TTC-ing under the mistletoe!” and “F*$k RPL, eat more pastries!” Muah.

I’m late to this post, but it’s a good one. You don’t at all sound like you are whining. We were in the trenches for not quite 4 years (3 years, 10 months) from when we threw away BCPs to when we brought our son (via surrogacy) home and year 2 was the worst. That’s when you know you are starting to stand out. I’ve been away from the ALI community the last two years and now I don’t know anyone. We’d love to have a second child but it will require the same investment our first child did. It is easier yet not. I consider myself very infertile: stage 4 endo, unicornuate uterus, left tube not connected to uterus and right tube rendered useless by endo and cauterized. I can’t and won’t forget my time in the trenches. It’s like I’ve graduated yet haven’t. I hope 2012 brings you your heart’s desire.

It’s so hard to compare how others have surpassed us in so many ways. Sometimes I try to focus on what I have that they don’t (free time, more income, education, etc.) but often I feel I don’t even want these things as much. But I think things happen for a reason and I hope I will look back pleased with how I used this time.

So sorry you are going through this too. I never thought I would reach this place where after 2.5 years of trying and four pregnancies I don’t have a living child or reasonable hope of having one any time soon.

I’ve been trying for a little over 2 years also, although I blog very little about it.. about 10, if not more (I stopped counting) of my cousins have gotten pregnant this year and numerous friends. It’s been a hellish year for me. I hate the constant ignorance of being told that in time it’ll happen for me… bs. Needless to say, my Christmas “spirit”was non existent and everyone had the nerve to question it. Thanks for writing about it.